CODENAME: SWAN
by shadesl
Summary: Accidentally bumping into someone shouldn't be that bad. But in Bella's case, it almost cost her life that CIA needed to send her to a witness protection program. The only good thing that came out of this? CIA got Agent Cullen assigned for the mission.


**Summary: **Accidentally bumping into someone shouldn't be that bad. But in Bella's case, it almost cost her life that CIA needed to send her to a witness protection program. The only good thing that came out of this? She got Agent Cullen assigned for the mission.

Warning: Bella might seem a little bit OOC...

**Author's note: **My very first story in this site! Even though I'm not new to this ff world, I've never wrote anything before. So if this sucks, my apologies. Just a heads up, English isn't my first language, so if there's some phrases that sound funny to you, and if the grammar is messed up...again I am so sorry.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended. The Twilight Saga and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer; hers and hers only. The idea for this story, however, belongs to me, though I never ever receive profit in any form for writing this story.

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><p><strong>CODENAME: SWAN<strong>

**Chapter 1**

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><p>There were times I wished I just lived in a small, peaceful town.<p>

And this was one of those times.

Being stuck in a traffic jam when you were supposed to have a meeting in less than half an hour was just _terrific._

Moreover, when said meeting involved those people whose ranks were way higher above yours, aka your big bosses. And they could fire you anytime they want. Anytime.

_Great. _Just great.

I worked as a reporter and also columnist in _Twilight_, a well known magazine for young women in New York. Today, I was supposed to take part in the presentation at the monthly meeting we always have before we release our next issue. I had written an article about the individuality of citizens in New York City—something different than the other articles I usually wrote—most of the times the editors wanted me to write about fashion, food, and if I was lucky enough, I'd get a chance to do an interview with a celebrity. In my seven years of career, I had met _and _interviewed Hillary Duff, Kate Walsh, Eva Longoria _and _Jared Leto.

I definitely was having the time of my life when I interviewed the latter.

So, I had written this new article that I considered as my _serious _one because of its theme. All I needed was a nod from the editors so that my article would make it to the magazine.

My breath hitched when I caught a sight of my wrist watch. _10.10 am. _And the meeting would start at _10.30. _

I knocked my head against the steering wheel. Kill me now. Kill me now.

My office was just a mile away from where I was. But with the traffic it could take..._forever_ to get there.

I didn't know how long it took to get to my office. I didn't dare to look at my watch, and was too lazy (and mostly scared of what I might see) to count the seconds. When I finally reached the building I quickly parked in my parking spot, lock the car, and started a mad dash toward the building.

I was in a hurry, and was so distraught that I bumped into something—someone—in accident. This someone I bumped must be a very _big_ person because I was knocked to the ground. I fell flat on my _ass. Damn. Talking about a bad day._

"You okay Ma'am?" asked a deep, husky voice

I looked up to find the source of the voice, and my eyes landed on a tall, bulky man.

No wonder he could knock me down without even trying. Let's just say he was Hulk. And I was Olive Oyl.

He offered his hands and helped me to get up.

"Thank you," I said, my cheeks turned red because of the embarrassment.

The man just nodded once and then walked away, his dark hair became a blur as he disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians in the sidewalk.

I shook my head at my klutziness and mentally smacked the back of my head. I turned to walk into the building, but then I stepped on something. I crouched down and picked up the thing, frowning as I realized what it was. A _flash disk._ Luckily my heels didn't do any damage when they stepped on it.

_Maybe it belongs to the man? He dropped it when we bumped into each other?_

I looked around, in case the man had come back after he realized his flash disk was missing. But there was no sign of him. I wanted to wait in case he'd come back—I really did—but I got no spare time. I was in a tight schedule.

So I decided to just put the flash disk into my pocket, thinking that if later the man comes looking for his flash disk, he would know this is where I work and he would come here to find me.

This time I made sure I didn't bump to anybody when I continued my mad dashing toward the meeting room.

I made it _just in time. _It was 10.29 when I arrived at the room. Sure, everyone was already there, seated in their respective seats. But I _hadn't _missed a thing.

Thank God.

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><p>I was burning.<p>

No, I wasn't _burning _as in _burning _in fire—no, but in metaphorical sense.

I was burning. With curiosity.

My eyes were glued to the little blue thing in my hands as I toyed with it.

The flash disk I found. The man's.

What could it possibly contain? I'm curious!

_Documents for works? Designs and sketches, if he was an architect? ...Porns? Who knows what men save in their flash disks? _

My reporter instinct was calling me. Reporters always want to know about everything, right? And I was no exception.

Umm or...maybe I was just being this nosy, super annoying woman that always wants to stick her nose into everything. But hey, there was a reason why I chose this career.

So with trembling hands_, _I plugged the flash disk to the slot in my computer.

_**New device found.**_

_**Click to install.**_

I did as the computer told me to do and...Done.

_**Device is ready to use.**_

Greaat. I clasped my hands together. They were getting itchy.

I was all set to explore the flash disk; my right hand was ready to move the mouse around. But suddenly, this notification window showed up:

_**INSTALLATION COMPLETE. DEVICE IS ACTIVATED.**_

The words were written in red, and soon after the window showed up, my computer suddenly died. Died. Just like that. The screen turned black. Just like that.

I unplugged the flash disk in reflex.

_Shit!_ Maybe the flash disk contained viruses? _Noooo..._ Just thinking of the damage it might have done to my computer and the files I had in there gave me a headache! All my work, my articles! My babies...and my new article that was supposed to be out in the next issue...

I was in the verge of tears when suddenly the computer went on again.

_Eh?_

'_Thank God...'_ I thought.

But that was weird.

I went to check on my files, and thankfully, they were still there. Nothing was missing. They were fine. So I activated the antivirus and scanned the computer system. No viruses. No damage had been done.

_Weird._

'_Well consider that as a lesson for being so nosy, Bella.'_

Shut up, clone!

But yeah...maybe it's right. It was wrong to look through some stranger's files; maybe God was trying to prevent me from committing a sin.

I decided to leave the flash disk be. Just to be safe. I promised to myself I wouldn't _peek_atthe contains again.

Even if I was still very curious...

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><p>It was close to midnight, but the office was still full of employees. It wasn't unusual, though. This would happen every month, when we're getting close to the release of our new issue. In the meeting, the editors pointed out some things that had to be changed or fixed, and each columnist was busy doing as they told since then.<p>

I was busy too. They thought I needed to change some words in some of my paragraphs because _blablabla. _They were the bosses. I did as I was told.

You'd think it would be easy to edit your own writing, well it wasn't. It took me quite some time to get everything right. As soon as I was done, I saved the file in my computer and quickly took off. I didn't think I can stand a minute more in the office. I just wanted to go home.

I was tired and starving and...I missed my daughter.

My Sasha. She was the most adorable little girl in the whole world. Maybe I was just biased since I'm her mom. But really, with her bronze curls, those big sparkling blue eyes, her pouty lips and chubby cheeks, she was perfection. She wasn't my biological daughter, but she was mine nonetheless. If I could love her unconditionally just like how a birth mother would, what's the difference?

I adopted her three years ago, when I decided I would just give up on my dream to find the right man and start a family with him. Cause, seriously, it was hard to find a man who's not a douche in this time period.

I remembered when I went to the foster home, and Sasha immediately stole my heart. She was three at the time. There she was, sitting in the corner of the room, sucking her thumb while the other kids were busy playing with each other. She was looking at them with those big blue eyes, looking she wanted to join them, but she didn't. She rooted in her spot. Turned out Sasha had an illness. Anemia. She got sick easily, and she wasn't as strong as the other kids. That was also why nobody had adopted Sasha yet. Because she wasn't perfect. I still couldn't believe those people who turned Sasha down. But in a way I was grateful that they did, because if they didn't, maybe I'd lose my chance to be Sasha's mother.

Ever since I had her, I had something to look forward to when I come home from work.

My apartment was just a few miles away from my office. And without traffic jam, I could reach home in less than 20 minutes. When I pulled up to the neighborhood, it was as empty and narrow as a graveyard. I parked my car in my usual spot once I reached the apartment complex.

I was just about to open the car door, when I felt something moved in distance from the corner of my eyes.

I turned around to check. It was dark, and some of the streetlights in this neighborhood were off. We had filled some complains to the city council but still, no actions were done.

Despite the darkness, I still could see the street even if not clearly. And there was nobody.

I suddenly got goose bumps. There was this nudging feeling that told me I might be in danger.

I shook my head and tried to shrug off that feeling.

Then something was moving again. In that dark corner, just across street. I saw it again, from the corner of my eyes. My heart started to beat faster.

I was never the bravest person; I tend chicken out when it came to things like _this._

Maybe—just maybe—I was hallucinating. Maybe I watched _too many _CSI.

I took a deep breath and climbed out of my car, mentally smacking the back of my head again for being such a coward. But suddenly someone appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me violently.

I panicked. I wasn't expecting for that. I was just about to open my mouth to scream, but it was too late. He was faster. He covered my mouth with his hand. His hand was big, as was his arm. My screams were damped.

I tried to get free, but his grip in my arms was just too strong. He was strong. He easily dragged me toward a van that was parked just behind my car. I kicked, and continued scream, but neither worked.

I fought harder when he tried to shove me into the van; I kicked harder, screamed louder, squirmed harder in his grasp. But still, he was just so strong. And I was so small in comparison to him.

And then I caught a glimpse of his face. It was a little bit hard to see with the bad lightning but...I could see him.

My eyes went wider.

It was the man I bumped into this morning!

_Why—why would he do this?_

I wanted to bark, _'What do you want?'_, but he covered my mouth. Everything I say would come out as muffled sounds.

I was still fighting to get free with every will that I got, and with each movement I made—or _tried_ to made—the man tightened his grip until I just couldn't move. It was even hard to breath.

I decided to try something that could be my last chance to free myself.

I bit his hand. Really, really hard. I dug my teeth into his skin that wasn't covered by his black t-shirt, and just like that his grip on me loosened a bit. I used that chance to kick him where it would hurt for men.

He rolled over in pain and I managed to free myself. But I wasn't quick enough to run; he still could grab my feet, causing me to fall down. I kicked as hard as I can, my nails dug into the asphalt of the street as I tried to hold on it so he couldn't pull me closer to him.

I managed to kick his face with my free feet and the eleven inch heel of the shoe I was still wearing came in contact with his eyes. He once again was defeated by the pain; he covered his scarred eye with his hands as he cursed under his breath.

I quickly got up and used this chance to run inside the apartment complex as fast as I could, shrugging off the tingling pain from the bruises I got from falling down on the asphalt earlier. From my peripheral vision I saw him finally got up and started chasing after me.

My apartment was on the second floor. And this complex had no security or a doorman.

_Where were the neighbors when you need them? Didn't they hear anything? Was there anyone—anyone—who's still awake and heard what's happening just outside their door?_

I hadn't even reached the stairs when suddenly a shot rang out.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain down my back. It hurt. So much. Like my flesh had been sliced with the sharpest knife. And it felt hot. Like my back was burnt by flame.

And...

and... then everything was a blur. I couldn't run. I wanted to—and I knew I _had _to—but I just couldn't. My legs just couldn't carry me anymore. My chest felt heavy. I couldn't breathe.

And then...

then...

everything went black.

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><p><strong>an: **So, do you think I should continue? I can't force you to review but...if you do, it would really make my day :)

Love/ shadesl


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